


Equilibrium

by MermaidMayonnaise



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, M/M, Rope Bondage, there is one (1) joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMayonnaise/pseuds/MermaidMayonnaise
Summary: It probably should’ve bothered him that Sheppard had to do this, do this tohim.But today was one of those days where he thought,this might as well happen.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	Equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> As evidenced by Rose-Colored Boy and my bookmarks, I really like the Aliens Made Them Do It tag.
> 
> Betaed by the lovely larrylashton98, who kindly told me that the entire 1300 word fic was three long sentences. Any further mistakes are my own. 12.28.19

McKay was a scientist, an engineer, and a future Nobel Prize winner. It never occurred to him that he might also be an idiot.

“Sheppard,” McKay attempted to say, muffled through the gag. “Sheppard, are we really going to go through this?” Because, if one looked at this logically, nothing about this made sense. This entire situation was absurd, the upending of reality.

Sheppard leaned over him, hissed, “You’re trying to talk? Seriously?” and there was nothing McKay could add, because, uh, the natives insisted on the gag. It wasn’t a requirement: just an exception for McKay.

It probably should’ve bothered him that Sheppard had to do this, do this to _him._ But today was one of those days where he thought, _this might as well happen._ Touching the device was his fault: Sheppard’s only involvement was grabbing his arm before McKay’s fingers made contact. Blaring alarms, natives rushing in with furious expressions. Insistence on a purification ritual-- just as unsurprising as anything thus far.

McKay whimpered when Sheppard pressed on his chest, urging him down. “I’m sorry,” Sheppard said and sounded like he meant it. “I need you horizontal,” and slipped the blindfold over McKay’s eyes. The blindfold _was_ mandatory; it covered his vision completely. “I’m gonna tie you down,” he added, and uh, no. McKay struggled to heave himself back to a sitting position on the stone, but Sheppard fumbled for his arms and held firmly. “I know we both don’t want to do this--” McKay made a strangled noise representing multitudes, “but we gotta,” Sheppard whispered fiercely. “They’re here, watching. This is the only way.”

The stone pressed cold against McKay’s shoulder blades, his spine; he’d been previously deprived of his shirt. He heard a metallic sound: Sheppard unbuckling his belt, the crack of snapping it off his waist. McKay really, _really_ had to go. He lurched upwards, this time Sheppard caught him deftly. “You promised to do this,” Sheppard said, voice unsteady, “no matter what,” and suddenly the belt was winding around his wrists and, fuck, being tied to a protrusion on the stone. McKay tugged at the binding frantically: no give, too little too late.

Sheppard unbuttoned McKay’s BDUs and eased them and his boxers down his unrestrained legs. _No, no,_ McKay tried to tell him, but only small small sounds penetrated the gag. He kicked out his ankles, felt the resistance of the pants, then the grit under the soles of his feet as he was completely bared. Terrifyingly blinded, the only clues of the transgressions were the sounds around him. Their breaths: asynchronous, discord in the heaving of their chests. The susurrus of Sheppard as he prepared to-- McKay attempted closing his legs and found a body between them. 

McKay felt a sense of vertigo, the stone tilting under him, needed contact, a physical reassurance. _Touch me,_ he whispered against the cloth, _touch me,_ and Sheppard’s hands smoothed over McKay’s chest, thin fingers over McKay’s nipples. McKay’s breath hitched despite himself, and he heard Sheppard’s uneven panting above him. The most unnerving was the uncertainty hovering in the air, nearly tangible. Schrodinger’s Cat. McKay knew what had to happen next, but he didn’t know when, how.

There was a hot tongue on a nipple and McKay gasped through the material of the gag, the sensation of Sheppard’s mouth on him hovering just between uncomfortable and pleasurable. Sheppard took one into his mouth, and McKay’s hips jerked slightly, and Sheppard must have been holding himself above McKay because there was a warm body pressing all along the length of his, naked.

“God, McKay,” Sheppard murmured into McKay’s neck, “you’re so sensitive,” and McKay whined through the gag, torn between telling him to hurry or staying there forever. Sheppard worked down McKay’s body, laving at his collarbones, navel, inner thighs. His breath ghosted over his cock and McKay’s legs quivered traitorously. Sheppard blew air over it, and McKay felt his shuddering response and despised the world. Because sex was one thing, but sex with Sheppard was another; he hated Sheppard seeing him like this, tied down, exposed. He felt the eyes of the natives, on his skin, on Sheppard, on him, scorching like the heat of Sheppard’s mouth as he swallowed McKay’s cock. McKay struggled not to buck up and Sheppard placed two hands on McKay’s hips, keeping the balance.

Sheppard sucked once and stopped, letting McKay’s cock slip out of his mouth. A whine escaped McKay’s lips. “I’m going to--” Sheppard groaned, and there was a scrape of ceramic as he lifted what McKay knew was a bowl filled with liquid from the dirt. Sheppard’s mouth was back on his cock and there was one slick finger in his ass. There wasn’t a burn, not yet, he did this often enough-- to himself, no one to watch, unlike now where everyone was looking. Sheppard slipped in a second finger and scissored, and that’s when McKay jerked against the bonds, fighting the intrusion. The heat around his cock was gone for good, fingers in his ass removed. Sheppard called for help hoarsely, two ropes were tied around his ankles, and McKay was spread open, pinned, helpless. Tears stained the blindfold: some of them soaked through, others traced paths down his cheeks that turned cold, like his shoulders, like his cock.

“I’m sorry,” and there were three fingers in his ass now, and McKay was uncomfortably full and _there_ was the stretch, the burn that he craved. They were inside him, twisting, three points of pressure and there was a burst of pleasure and McKay began moaning and thrusting upwards for real, trying to fuck himself onto Sheppard’s fingers. This time Sheppard let him, until he pulled out and McKay felt the gaping emptiness inside and was about to-- to _scream,_ but Sheppard was lining up his cock and slowly pushing in and it was inevitable, inexorable.

_ Oh, _ McKay wanted to say,  _ oh, _ because he didn’t know it could feel like this, the fullness, and he almost yelled for Sheppard to stop, too much, but Sheppard shifted incrementally until he was fully inside. Everything flipped when McKay mentally urged him, to move, please, for the love of, move-- and Sheppard,  _ genius, _ starting fucking into him with short, even thrusts that were so incredibly good and not enough in the slightest. McKay couldn’t even respond, blind and gagged, and Sheppard’s even thrusts stuttered when he realized the balance was upended and becoming something more. His hands gripped McKay’s shoulders and McKay wanted Sheppard to have it, something integral; he wanted Sheppard to take and take until McKay had nothing left.

_ Touch me, _ McKay begged, and it was useless because Sheppard couldn’t understand.  _ Touch-- _ and Sheppard’s warm hand left McKay’s shoulder and wrapped around McKay’s cock and started jacking it quickly, roughly, and Sheppard was talking, had been for a while: “Yeah, c’mon, Rodney, give it up, you can do it, give it up, give it to me--” and everything was too much, pleasure cresting, and McKay bit clean through the gag, back arching to press his chest against Sheppard, and flew apart.

Once he regained his senses, he was aware of Sheppard still fucking him desperately, chasing something, anything; and this wasn’t fair, nothing was fair, something was changing between them, establishing a new equilibrium, and McKay spit out the remnants of the gag and said, “John, I need you to-- you have to know, I’ll give you, give you  _ everything--” _ and McKay  _ felt _ when John stuttered, coming hard, and collapsed on his spent body.

-

Later, the natives returned their clothes, refusing to meet their eyes. John and the team, safely reunited, stepped through the stargate and McKay lingered behind, squinting over his shoulder, filled with the sensation of something important transgressing but not knowing what. Before he left, the head councilwomen stepped up to him, head and eyes down, and handed him Sheppard’s belt. McKay nodded his head and took his next step into the blue, heading home.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to [My Oh My](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsRSYE_zPsk) by Camila Cabello most of the time I spent writing and editing this. The working title was actually "he said he likes a good time, my oh my" before I changed it.
> 
> I'm mermaidmayonnaise on tumblr. I would tell you that this is my last fic for this year, but I don't have 2020 vision.


End file.
